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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212373">the walls of my tower they come crumbling down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkcorvids/pseuds/aceofcorvids'>aceofcorvids (clockworkcorvids)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>an eternity of loving you [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie), The Old Guard - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Backstory, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Language Barrier, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Soulmates, because lbr theyre, i love these immortal gay idiots, movie canon, murder but make it TENDER, no beta we die like men, not canon compliant with the comics oops, sorta but not really, this was a mess to tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:27:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkcorvids/pseuds/aceofcorvids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they kill each other, they do so simultaneously, and as their eyes meet beneath a veneer of sweat and blood, they share a thought: <i>This is the man I have seen in my dreams.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>an eternity of loving you [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>648</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the walls of my tower they come crumbling down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello there shiny new hyperfixation!!</p><p>i read through the entire joe/nicky tag and then decided im morally and legally obligated to add to it. go watch the old guard on netflix.</p><p>title from babel by mumford and sons <s>something something language barrier metaphor</s></p><p>EDIT: whoops,, it has now come to my attention that this isn't exactly canon compliant with the comics, so i slapped a couple edits on the tags! go read the comics if you havent ive only read the first issue so far but theyre so good :')<br/>also, holy fuck, this is the most attention ive gotten on a fic in a hot second and it means the <i>world</i> to me<br/>thanks B)</p><p>EDIT 2: it took me too long to realize that i made a factual error saying that joe and nicky pray to different gods! ive changed the line to reflect that they do not. they both practice abrahamic religions. moral of the story is do your research and make sure you edit your work!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time they kill each other, they do so simultaneously, and as their eyes meet beneath a veneer of sweat and blood, they share a thought: <em> This is the man I have seen in my dreams. </em></p><p>They die on the battlefield amongst rotting corpses, no funerals and no one to mourn but each other. Their swords are plunged into each other’s chests, their blood on each other’s hands. This blood mingles as they lie there in a deadly embrace, and one could say it is poetic, but it’s difficult to find beauty when you’re coughing up blood and your nose is filled with the stench of the same decay that will soon grasp your own body.</p><p>Or so they thought. Blades slide out and back into blood-slicked hands with a wet squelching sound, bones crack, flesh rearranges itself, muscle knits itself back together. It hurts so, so very much, and it takes an indeterminate but agonizingly long amount of time. </p><p>Neither of them have yet encountered Andromache of Scythia, but they have both seen her in visions. She will later tell them that the first death is always the longest.</p><p>They wake up next to each other, blades lying forgotten, and neither of them knows quite what to do, or what has happened to them, or why the other man is experiencing the same thing. </p><p>The second time, they fight with hands, and it’s like trying to catch an eel, but determination and adrenaline can do many things. Yusuf snaps Nicolo’s neck first, and then Nicolo leaves finger-shaped bruises in Yusuf’s neck where he’s crushed his enemy’s windpipe. So it happens even if they <em> don’t </em> die at the same time, they realize, but they aren’t any closer to breaking the cycle.</p><p>They have been brought together for a reason, though neither of them is sure what this reason is. They pray in different ways, but to the same god, and both of them, at least at first, think it must be that they are destined to kill each other. That one of them will <em> have </em> to come out on top, sooner or later. It takes them until the seventh time to realize that they’re going to keep waking up next to each other no matter what, and that time, the sun is rising over the battlefield as they lie there in a pool of their own blood, mingling, mixing, sealing this strange pact they have. They don’t share a language, but they share the commonality of their own humanity (are they human anymore?), their resistance to death, and their bodies. </p><p>Yusuf reaches out first, as they lie side-by-side waiting for either of them to not wake up, and turns his head in the dirt. Lifts it slightly off the ground. Offers his enemy his hand. </p><p>Nicolo’s own hand twitches, going for the longsword at his side - it’s caked with layers and layers of his enemy’s blood, as he’s been too caught in the thick of this dance to think about anything but ending it. For a moment, he thinks that this man is concealing a weapon, or that he will snap Nicolo’s neck again. Instead, Nicolo finds that he is simply holding out his hand. This gesture does not require a common language to be interpreted, particularly not alongside the way his brows are slightly raised and his head is slightly tilted. He is asking if they can stop this seemingly endless cycle in a way that does not entail more bloodshed.</p><p>Yusuf is surprised, but pleasantly so, when the man’s piercing eyes flit from his hand to his face, and then to the untouched sword at his side. He takes Yusuf’s offer, and when their fingers touch without the pretense of violence, another shared vision passes between them. Two women, dark hair, one scowling and one grinning, both fierce. Their eyes meet again. </p><p>Nicolo’s no-longer-enemy speaks, and it’s as if he’s babbling. Nicolo only recognizes a few words. I. You. See. He blinks, says <em> I do not understand you </em>, and the man blinks back. </p><p>Well, this is a more effective form of communication than sharp blades and rageful hands, but they will have to find something better yet.</p><p>Yusuf is entranced, and his fingers are still intertwined with those of the other man that he has killed seven times - who has killed <em> him </em> seven times. They do not understand each other’s words, but if their recent discoveries are anything to go by, they will have plenty of time to do so. He lifts their entwined hands, and feels a surge of hurt - followed by surprise that he is so affected - when the man flinches again. He cannot say that it is okay, cannot say <em> anything </em> that he knows the other man will understand, so Yusuf just squeezes his hand. </p><p><em> I will not hurt you again </em>, he thinks, and then he wonders where this strong conviction came from. Perhaps they were destined to meet each other not to kill each other, but for something else entirely. What this something else could be, he is not yet sure. </p><p>He tries something else. Takes his other hand, points his index finger at his chest. Thumps it for good measure. The other man nods. Yusuf takes two fingers, then, gestures to his eyes. The man nods again. He points at the man, who looks like he’s on the edge of some realization. </p><p>How to symbolize dreams with his hands? He closes his eyes, as if he’s asleep, and waves his hand in front of his face. He hopes it gets the point across, but...well, he can always try again. </p><p>Nicolo thinks he understands. <em> I see you...asleep. </em> I see you sleep? I see you <em> when I </em>sleep? He isn’t sure, though, so he doesn’t nod this time. And then an idea strikes him. He’s been lying on his back this entire time, and it seems that whatever of the battle still remains, it’s distant - crows and vultures fly overhead, and the echoes of horses and blades and screams are so quiet as the wind carries them. He sits up, and it’s the other man’s turn to flinch, but Nicolo just squeezes his hand in silent reassurance as he draws a knife from his belt and begins to sketch in the dirt. It’s nothing fancy, an image of a human that is barely recognizable as himself (mostly from the distinctive shape of his sword drawn in one hand) with eyes closed and a slight smile, but it gets the point across. More specifically, the open eye drawn above Nicolo’s sleeping face, next to which is a caricature of the other man and his own blade, gets the point across. </p><p><em> I see you in my dreams </em>. </p><p>“Is this what you mean?” Nicolo asks, even though he knows the other man can’t understand him - he hopes the upward lilt of his voice will indicate that he is asking for affirmation. </p><p>The man nods, though, furiously, and he’s smiling, and it’s the first time Nicolo has seen him do that. He can’t help that he smiles back, or that he feels that it’s a very good idea to make this man smile again. They had originally been driven by violence, since it was the pretense under which they met, and so of course they’d assumed it was the <em> reason </em> they met, but perhaps this is not it at all. </p><p>Yusuf looks at the other man, questioning, desperately asking with his eyes - <em> Does this mean you see me too? </em> </p><p>He takes his free hand, places it on the man’s chest, feels a surge of delight mingling with pride when the other man doesn’t flinch this time. </p><p>“You too?” he asks, and either the man understands these simple words or the nature of the question, because this time he is the one to nod.</p><p>Yusuf is the one to gesture for them to both stand, the first to pick up his blade and wipe it off. He picks up the other man’s blade, too, and sees fear flash in his eyes, but just cleans it off, holds the hilt out for the man to take it. They had been reluctant to let go of each other’s hand, and the jolt of something warm like fire but even more magical that runs through Yusuf’s veins when their fingers brush again reaffirms that whatever happens, he is <em> not </em> letting this man out of his sight. </p><p>They are something more than human now, perhaps, freed from the fear of death but burdened with the curse of what Nicolo thinks might be immortality, ascendance, something almost godlike. They have this - and the dreams - in common, and it’s more than enough for him to look past the language barrier that will no doubt prove infuriating and decide he wants them to stay together. </p><p>The two find themselves in another embrace, one which they both initiated - like their first deaths - at the same time, but this time it isn’t deadly. It’s simple, tender, and they don’t need words, because they both feel in this moment that they understand the strange and unique things that the two of them are made out of. </p><p>First things first, they need to get off this battlefield and clean themselves up. </p><p>And after that? They’ll have plenty of time to get around the language barrier, and much, much more.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! if you’re so inclined, ao3 user drake (the one behind getting me into this fandom) has started a <a href="https://discord.gg/kDJpjxx">discord</a> server all about the old guard! stop by and say hello &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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